Chapter Text
The first time John Shepard had met a military trained omega, he was in awe.
It was back when he was still a trainee, barely past 18. Newly joined Alliance grunt, going through the motions of basic training. It was tedious and repetitive, most of it designed to rid him of bad habits gleaned from his not-so-distant days in the Tenth Street Reds.
Now, John knew the basics of street fighting thanks to the gang and turf wars, but that didn’t tend to help him much when wrestling with the other recruits. The gang and self-taught techniques usually had some weakness to them and dirty tactics would only earn punishment.
He also knew how to intimidate someone with a gun. Didn’t help when firing on the range and aiming to be precise.
Gang life had corroded his reading skills and his hands ached when typing. Didn’t help when studying, especially when it took him three times as long to read the text as the other recruits around him.
Here there were no dirty tricks to get him out of a tough spot, no cheating on the reading and writing, and there was no way his instructors would accept anything less than perfect form when aiming his gun.
The military grade suppressants made him irritable as they messed with his hormones and ability to produce pheromones, his ability to scent seemingly lessening by the day. The base nurse had already checked him over, assuring him that the hormonal implant was working properly, that it was nothing to worry about and that his body would soon adjust. It was like losing a limb, like his nose was being cemented shut. He knew logically that the other recruits had to be feeling the same way but the alpha pissing contests didn’t seem to lessen at the same rate that the pheromones did.
The supervising officers did their best to channel their young alpha aggression more productively, training them to the bone. Each night they were all exhausted, no energy left to challenge each other for the position of the pack alpha.
There were more than a few moments when he questioned whether it was worth it. Whether he was worth it. The thought of crawling on his belly back to the Reds kept him motivated enough to at least try to succeed. At the very least, Shepard thought irritably, he could be a grunt soldier, and that would be enough to keep him off the shithole that was earth. Though he did wonder, had he run from just one crappy life to another?
Then came the day that Shepard finally found his purpose.
It started just like any other day in the training hell that Shepard had volunteered for. They had risen at some godforsaken hour to jog and after breakfast, they had been assigned to the gym.
It was through the middle of his workout that the commanding alpha snarled and gave them marching orders to present themselves for inspection.
Following orders briskly, the trainees lined themselves up as their commanding officer walked the line.
“Listen up,” the alpha all but snarled, “today we have something new for you grunts. Training designed to help you serve in a proper Alliance unit.”
The platoon sergeant kept on speaking, but an enticingly sweet scent had caught his attention and he knew, even without looking, that he wasn’t the only one. A man approached their line-up and waited patiently behind the commanding officer. He was dressed in Alliance blues, relaxed at parade rest.
“Most of you have not seen or scented a whiff of an omega since you came here. Your suppressants have now been deemed sufficient in your systems to allow you access to one of our Military Omegas.”
John found himself not paying attention to the commanding officer; the omega behind his commanding officer had his full attention. The man was beautiful, as all omegas tended to be; but unlike any other omega Shepard had ever met, this man radiated control, his stance screaming dominant alpha. Everything that he had learnt from his days in the gang about omegas seemed to turn to dust before his eyes.
Alpha instincts, still hard to control at this point, had him puffing his chest, straightening his back, doing his best to look intimidating. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to dominate the man standing in front of him. If he had been able to see it from the outside, he would have noticed that all the alpha recruits were doing much the same thing. As it was, a few older officers kept their snickering to themselves, poorly disguised behind raised hands. More than a few older recruits had come down to watch the FNG’s be introduced to their first military omega. It was a ritual that they all went through, and to see so many young bristling alphas was always amusing. The newbie betas instinctively shirked from the domination display from the alphas among them, but the ranking omega gave no indication that he was even slightly intimidated. In fact, the omega almost looked bored.
A snarl from the commanding alpha officer broke through the display.
“We’ll be numbering you off to spar individually. This will show you the standard of what we expect in the Alliance.”
Naturally, when it was his turn to spar, Shepard got his ass handed to him. Over and over again, Shepard found himself on his back, on his stomach, his arm twisted in a painful grip, the omega forcing him to submit. That rankled. It didn’t matter to him that the man was a highly trained professional, that the same thing had happened with the other alpha recruits. No, it was because the man was an omega.
Shepard had presented early as an alpha. It had earnt him respect in the Reds, and he had quickly climbed the ranks. Even amongst the other alphas, he had a reputation for being incredibly dominant. The gang’s Betas tended to give him a wide berth, and the Omegas had outright quaked at his scent. To be the one on the ground, the one who had to kneel to the superior, festered at him. He could feel an alpha rage building, but each time Shepard thought it would reach its peak, the omega would produce pheromones that forcibly calmed him down. Even that was irritating. Shepard had never known an omega who produce pheromones that strongly.
The end of the training session produced several pouting alphas (not that they would admit it) and more than a few officers laughing at the subdued alpha grunts. As the recruits moved back into the lineup, the platoon sergeant addressed them.
“Some people think that just being an omega makes a person weak.” The sergeant moved down the line, staring into each alpha’s eye, daring them to argue.
“Some people think that just being an omega, means that a person has to have somehow earned it to be worthy, to be noticed.” Shepard felt a flash of annoyance; omegas weren’t worthy of an alpha if all they did was snivel and submit.
“Here in the Alliance, its different. We value our omegas. One of our omegas is worth more than a hundred of you alpha pups.”
At once, a soothing scent seemed to come over the training field. Shepard felt his rage cool and his body relax. Around him, every alpha trainee visibly relaxed and inhaled. The omega smirked and the beta trainees also relaxed.
“Never mistake the omega’s silence for a weakness. Any Alliance omega could make you submit with little effort.” Shepard’s eyes widened, an epiphany of sorts hitting him.
“Here, it is you who must be worthy to fight alongside them.”
The commander continued to bark orders at them, but to Shepard the exercise had been a revelation of sorts. He knew then, beyond a doubt of anything in his life, that one day he would be in command of his own ship, and that he would be worthy to serve alongside such an exceptional human being.
Never before had Shepard been so certain of anything in his life.